


The Eve

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark, Double Drabble, Emotions Mysticism Tension and a little drop of porn, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Humiliation, Incest, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Non-Consensual, Other, everything is hollow and nothing hurts, killing his father sleeping with his mother - it's the ancient cliche, this is the euphemism of the year, well dark-ish, well yes it became one! triumph, yeah I know it was the "thank you Captain Obvious" tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:22:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16638125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: He tries very hard to detach himself from the Light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TobermorianSass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobermorianSass/gifts).



 

Leia shudders when Kylo puts his arms around her waist. He gives her—them—a moment of peace, stroking her sides slowly, sliding his hands down her back, enjoying the warmth beneath the silk dress. It’s good she’s alive. The will of The Force, surely. Another chance, after killing Solo proved to be not enough.

Well, _this_ should suffice, thinks Kylo as he pulls up the general’s chin and kisses her. He aims for passionate, yet gentle, like what he remembers from the mornings at home. She’s shaking so hard, the whole time, she would fall if he wasn’t holding her. Kylo decides to take it as a compliment.

She opens her mouth. Closes them without making a sound. Open them again, this time with more resolve, but he cuts her short before she can address him.

‘Shhh. Nowadays, I go by the “Supreme Leader”. And you’re the one who taught me how important, how powerful the names and titles are. You wouldn’t want anybody to mess up yours, right, _general Organa_?’ He moves his thumb along her lower lip, swollen under the nude lipstick. ‘But perhaps I can make an exception for my mother. Please, call me “Ben”.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever managed to write all other ideas I have for them and Hux, this will become the collection for short ficlets for this surprisingly rare (why and HOW?) pair. If not - well, T., at least you got a double drabble?
> 
> N. helped me caught the missing articles and other grammar beasts. <3 <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's more like a proper porn! Well, still mine porn, so just a pretext to waxing poetics and some emotional tensions, but - the pretext here contains the porn nonetheless. 
> 
> Have I just unlocked the achievement and created the ship tag? Such a nice beginning of the year! I should probably challenge myself with "how many niche and non-existing ships with Hux being humiliated, made fashionably bloody and pushed to his knees can I write for my inner child?".

Leia moans– starts to moan _and_ thrust her hips, then catches herself and her whole body, from feet loosely bound by Force to hands tied to the  headboard with rope; goes stiff, not even breathing. She has goosebumps over her breasts, though. The one detail of difference between her and a marble statue. She’s so strong. Kylo feels a shadow of pride – which is bad. He’s being tempted by the Light, again.

‘Now, now, mother.’ He holds Leia’s chin with one hand and slides the fingers of the other into her mouth; it’s completely dry. ‘What would C3-PO say? Shouldn’t you act like a general, at least, not a common kitchen-whore?’

Better, immediately. He sees – feels – the deep, finally hopeless desperation in his mother's eyes, and the pure, iron-hot hate in Hux’s gaze, just a brief glimpse of it, before _the general_ remembers his face should be buried between Leia’s thighs. But Kylo lets it slip, because—

Because yes, yes, this is great. The perfect balance. One of them despairs, the other hates. The Darkness in him swells and Kylo could swear he hears it purr. So… satisfied with him, so content, so happy. Neither his mother nor Hux ever were – and where did it lead them?

‘I guess you’re getting better.’ He lets go of Leia’s mouth and pets Hux’s hair instead – feeling magnanimous, so like a perfect ruler – then pushes him lower and, in a one smooth gesture, moves his own fingers to Leia’s public hair, thick, wet, sticking to his skin while he combs through it. A lock of it twirls around his thumb as he draws circles, smaller and smaller, around Leia’s clitoris. ‘I’m glad. I want only the best for Vader’s daughter.’

The Darkness clings to Kylo, too, warm, suffocating yet welcoming. Like a womb.

He greets this thought with amusement. It surely will help him ascend. Just like his mother is ascending, when his thumb and middle finger finally touch her clitoris, caress it, press it between themselves gently, half-massaging, half-sliding back and forth, back and forth. Like the meditation beads back in the temple.

Billons of paths and then – the right one. The one chosen by the Force. Every wandering thought is in fact the key to understanding the will of the universe. Ren’s great destiny.

Leia’s close, so close, her struggles to retain control visible in the Force. Wave after wave, all of them deep and dark, and yet sparling, like some phantom crystals. And there’s her self-loathing at the centre of it, in this tight knot of muscles between her hips, black and powerful, pulling everything – pulling him – into it, like a dying star. Such a pure strength. It must be, it’s the place of his birth, Kylo muses, here, just beneath his fingers. All the symbols. All the meanings melting into one. The path is straight.

She spasms suddenly, strong enough to break his Force-bonds, her legs kicking the air. Ren mutters ‘General,’ because he can’t lose his concentration _now_ and Hux glances up obediently, catches her ankles – his hands still in those ridiculous gloves, like it could make things less real  – caresses them lightly. Funny, but it seems this hits Leia harder than everything else. She shivers, mumbles some of sort of “Ben, not him, _please_ , not you, pleasepleaseplease” as this black sun rises inside her.

Kylo might laugh if he wasn’t afraid it’s going to mess up his trance. _It’s only fair, mother dear, it’s only fair that I should become the cause of your self-hatred. You and your beloved brother made me loathe myself my whole life. Made me weak, covered my eyes, let me wander in the dark and then judged me for not getting better, for not having – so many things. For lacking control. Always control and moderation._

 _Oh, mother dear_ – he’s watching Hux’s fingers tracing the lines of her veins, thin, blue, fragile, and being engulfed by the shadow – _and where’s your control_ – black leather on white skin, a little reddened from the pressure – _where's your_ _moderation, now_?

Leia throws her head to the left, slams her teeth together. Silk pillows between them, muffling her screams. Her hips almost – jam, not stop, but pull back a little. Her muscles are hard like stone from the tension, painful to even watch. For a moment, Kylo’s afraid she’ll make it, win against him again, prove all of them incompetent fools and bastards and impostors, she, Vader’s daughter, Skywalker’s sister—

Hux turns his face, kisses and bites her inner thigh, again and again, murmurs through it – “it’s all right, you’re doing great, so great, time to let go, there’s nothing to protect anymore, you stayed long enough, they’re safe”, some lie like this – and there’s a _wound_ in the Force, pain so strong it steals the breath from Ren’s lungs, and Leia’s eyes expand like a supernova, her control shattering into a billion little tremors, taking her whole.

An earthquake. That little snowy planet of Hux, disappearing into it. Oh, he had good timing then, good enough to survive and serve as a service dog for Sno–the Force. Now, too, he manages to turn quickly enough to face Leia's – let’s be civilised, mother dear – vulva again, lets her shove it against his open mouth once or twice, before she spasms painfully, beautifully, her Force signature convoluted into this black sun, ready to be devoured. Perfect. Hux, one has to admit, has a gift for blowing up stars.

This is a lazy thought, and a generous one. But Ren can afford both, sated and almost drunk on the Darkness. So much. So pure. It overflows and spills, and he has to catch it again, His own. His pet general’s. His mother’s, oh yes, yes, it’s the best, so powerful, strong, so familiar. And isn’t it right for a mother to feed her child? She should be happy – that is, if she ever gave a damn about family.

She’s shivering constantly now, so, so, much, like Kylo himself when he was a child, fighting off  a fever. There’s no gentleness in this thought. It was Solo who took – far from perfectly, yet inevitably – care of him in his sicknesses.

Were Solo still alive, Ren would never be able to do this. He couldn’t hurt him so, take her from him, not when it's been always blatantly obvious Leia was the love of his life, the only one that really mattered.

‘Is,’ Hux sounds comically formal, ‘the… the matter settled, Supreme Leader?’ Still on his knees, he’s already smoothing out his uniform. ‘If so, I have other duties to attend to.‘

‘Me, too,’ Kylo snaps, his fragile balance broken, the trance – the straight path – shattering before his eyes. No matter. He’ll meditate and find it later. And as for now… ‘Take care of our royal guest. Make her comfortable. I’ll send someone to clean her – the whole room – later.’ Sons of kitchen women have to take care of themselves on their own. Sweet, rich injustice. The dessert, as it were.

Hux purses his lips. Kylo almost laughs, still high on that black star. He could never have dreamed of such pleasure, such power, such _peace_.

‘See you later, mother.’ He stands up before dutifully kissing Leia’s cheek and still bound hands; Hux’ll take care of this. ‘You too, general.’ Let it sink, a tattoo on Hux’s mind. Branded from birth, a servant and a whore, just like his mother, not matter what pretty ranks he chose to dress it up in.

Poor little thing. It would have been better for him to stay in the kitchen and tinker with ovens or pipes. Perhaps he would've turned out to be a decent cook, one day, perhaps he would even call one of his famous dishes a _Starkiller_ , as in, killing all the stars of Tavilli’s pan-galactic culinary guide.

It amused Kylo enough to make him turn at the door one last time. Hux is lying on the mattress, alongside Leia, his fingers tracing – writing – some lines on her belly. A soothing gesture. A technological formula. An imagined vivisection. Perhaps all of them.

He took the gloves off, though. _The glove_ , the one fidgeting with her bounds is still in leather. Ah. _Of course_. This little cunning rat. Has he asked her to aid him in freeing the galaxy – freeing them – of her mad son or does he plan to do so in the future?

Ren shakes his head and goes out. This, this is good, better than anything he could have hoped for. His mother will fall for this sooner rather than later, she’s desperate enough. And her fall, the fall of Leia Organa and a rise of Vader’s daughter will shake the galaxy in a way a dozen _Starkillers_ could not. And he – he – he will seize it all.

He’ll even let them both live after this, probably. No reason to waste such potent hatred and humiliation. And whatever scheme they will come up with... The Force will protect him. Inevitably.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A. hunted all the terrible articles and jumping tenses for me (thank you!). If anything is left, is on me, because I wanted to post it quickly, so t. could read it today. ;)


End file.
